Splendid Conspiracy
by OR7A
Summary: 2376; Earth... Our hero has unwittingly stumbled upon the darkest secret of the Federation, one on which the entire organisation is founded upon, but one that if revealed to the public could cause the downfall of a civilization. There is much more to this story than meets the eye. Chapter 1 is up. Chapter 2 to follow shortly
1. Chapter 1

Miles pulled the collar of his long charcoal grey coat up both in a vain attempt to shield himself from the worst of the drizzle and, with more success, hide his face from passersby.

Although Earth's weather controls meant hurricanes, tornados and other natural disasters were a thing of the past the traditional European climate has remained temperate in every way, including its amount of annual rainfall. With Keiko and the kids almost a world away Miles had set out for Paris. Wanting to stay off the grid, or as off the grid as you could on the homeworld and seat of the Federation anyway, he'd travelled by skimmer from his earthbound family home to Paris. Skimmers usually only ran these days for the flocks of tourists that flooded to Earth from around the Federation, wanting to see "where it all happened", but Miles had friends in the right places and he'd managed to get put aboard a budget, and very slow moving, cargo hauler running large delicate, and therefore un-transporter-worthy, cargo across the European continent.

Miles turned a corner and into a small alleyway. With his knowledge of the Parisian landscape limited and not wanting to have to keep his eyes glued to a nav-padd, he'd stuck to the main streets, but for his purposes they, with their heavier traffic which included the occasional local security patrol or even Starfleet Officer, were now beginning to be inadequate.

Heading down the dark alleyway being careful to avoid tripping over strewn rubbish, somehow missed by the round the clock collection services, whilst looking behind him at least a dozen times to make sure he wasn't being followed. Paranoia wasn't usually a natural O'Brien trait, but Miles had managed to pick it up over the years; he'd blamed Julian.

He rounded a corner in the alleyway to the right. He was greeted not only by a dead end, but by a duo of well built humans who rose from their sitting position upon his intrusion. Sensing the menace in their glares Miles promptly about faced and began walking away. He was concentrating so hard on listening for their footsteps behind him that he paid no heed to the footsteps coming from in front of him. Rounding that corner in the alleyway he walked straight into a third man, of very similar menacing build and demeanour as the first two.

_Oh Miles what have you got yourself into now_, Miles thought as the first punch landed on his jaw.

**Three days earlier**

With the onset of autumn the sun hung low in the sky even at eight-hundred hours as Miles O'Brien, lecturer at Starfleet Academy, rematerialized on the transporter pad. The yellow Starfleet jumpsuit he'd become so accustomed to wearing in his decade plus service in Starfleet had been swapped out for a casually tailored light grey suit, open at the collar and his reading glasses tucked into the jacket outside pocket. Whilst 24th Century medical advances _had_ rendered the need for spectacles obsolete, with any sight imperfection eradicating using powerful and precise lasers, Miles preferred his custom made glasses; he felt they made him more "Teachery". Plus when he worn them at home they were always good for a giggle from Molly, whose favourite trick was to hide them from him in the mornings, a game her younger brother was fast picking up.

He smiled and nodded in thanks to the Academy's transporter operator of whom he hadn't learned the name of as they changed regularly. He walked at a steady pace whilst he finished reading the padd he'd started on the previous night on quantum injectors, or plasma quantifiers, or some such engineering article, using his well practiced skill of using his peripheral vision to weave in and out of the oncoming traffic on-route to his classroom.

Two semesters into his role at Starfleet Academy and Miles still hadn't managed to take a class out of the lecture hall and do anything practical. He'd signed up to teach engineering, not how to read books about engineering. That being said, however, Miles didn't have regret in the world about moving his family away from the frontier and back to Earth. He loved his job, Keiko was more than happy and it was great to be able to see the kids grow up enjoying real sunshine, real air and real gravity. Even if the cost was being chained to a lecture hall.

He'd managed to finish the article and had gotten all the way to his desk, at the bottom and centre of the classically designed elevated spherical lecture hall, and put his padd down before he'd even noticed the lone figure sat at a desk about three rows back. Miles looked up. Thought that it might be a cleaner taking five were pushed aside when he recognized it was Nolan Parker, a good, but not prominently gifted student on his. Nolan was sat in complete silence, books open, staring straight forward, he hadn't even flinched when Miles had entered, or when Miles had looked up at him.

"Mr. Parker," Miles said ascending the first step towards the student, confused concern written across his face.

"Nolan?" Miles persisted climbing the shallow steps until he was parallel with the zombified young man. Not unaccustomed to pranks, although usually at the hands of his peers not his students, Miles' concern was laced with a hint of anticipation.

Still Nolan said nothing and hadn't moved an inch.

"Nolan?" Miles tried once more before deciding to reach out to check the boy's pulse. But as Miles' hand drew close to Nolan's neck the boy suddenly reacted, jerking away from Miles and falling from his chair. Although initially startled by Nolan's abrupt fall Miles' first reaction was to reach over and help him up.

"Mr. O'Brien," Nolan said. All of a sudden, Miles could see the colour he hadn't realized was missing from the lad's face returned and there was life in his eyes once more. It was as if someone had flicked a light bulb on in Nolan's mind.

"Nolan are you ok?"

He had accepted Miles' outstretched hand to haul himself up off the ground. Rising to his feet now Nolan seemed a little unsteady, although the story on his face was more one of wonder, than residual pain or surprise you would have expected from the events he'd just experienced.

"Nolan?" Miles had to repeat, the lad still didn't seem all together there.

Nolan was looking around the lecture hall. Whilst it was a room he'd used for the last two semesters, he was a first year student, it was as if this was the first time he'd ever seen it.

"Where am I?" he asked, finally turning his attention to miles, who had seeing Nolan was physically fine and able to stand unaided had taken a step back.

"Nolan, are you sure you're feeling alright?" Miles persisted, ignoring the seemingly odd question.

"... and who are you?" It was Nolan's turn to ignore a question.

The Starfleet Officer in Miles bubbled to the service. He'd seen the look Nolan worn before, but never on Earth... in a classroom. He'd never call himself a soldier, Miles was a man of peace but he'd lived through two wars; the Cardassian War and the more terrifying and potentially galaxy changing Dominion War, and he'd seen that look on service men on the front lines. Although he was sure Julian would have a more complex techno babble name for it, but Miles would call it shellshock. He reached out to Nolan, Miles didn't know what was wrong but he'd known he had to do something. But as Miles' reach approached Nolan recoiled, taking a step back, and repeating his questions; with more force this time, all the while wearing the same timid, lost looking expression.

"Where am I? Who are you?"

"I'm Miles O'Brien, Nolan; you're at Starfleet Academy, lecture room ten-fifteen-alpha. You're nearly an hour early." Miles had to glance at the chronometer on the wall before confirming the lad over keen timing keeping. He'd had noticed it before but it was all the more obviously now, as his mind adjusted to the circumstances, and Nolan stood further back, but Miles realized his student was still in his nightwear. He was pretty sure of this anyway, Miles wasn't one to keep up with the ever changing fashion these youngsters purported to enjoy, but these almost definitely looked like night clothes.

"Of course. Of course," Nolan said, taking his seat again. Nolan didn't turn to face forward, instead keeping his eyes on Miles, but without staring, almost as if Nolan was listening intently to Miles' half of a conversation and was appearing interested and involved. The expression across Nolan's face changed for a third time, now what Miles would consider normal.

"So, do you mind telling me why you're here an hour early? Why you're still in your dressing gown? And why you fell off your chair a minute ago?" Miles assessment of the situation had changed, and he'd altered his tone to match. The weirdness of a few moments previously in the encounter were now a more distant memory as Nolan appeared to revert to normal. Miles was having that awful feeling he was the butt of some practical joke. But if it was, Miles thought, what's the punch line?

"I am?" Nolan said, turning to face the front again. "I'd best go home and change." Finally taking his focus from his tutor Nolan turned to his books and began packing them away into the satchel he'd stowed under his desk. "I'm sorry Mr. O'Brien," he said throwing the satchel over his shoulder as he stood once more.

By this time Miles had retreated a few steps back down the steps. Although reasonably sure the lad was in no imminent damage he was still nonetheless worried. "Are you sure you're ok Nolan? You seem a little out of sorts."

"Yes, Fine," Nolan said making a bee-line for the nearest exit ducking behind the seating on the row he'd been sat on, obviously trying to avoid getting close to Miles, where his he could entrap him and demand answers.

"I must... I must have eaten something funny. I don't feel right." _You don't look right either_, Miles thought_, and that's what concerns me_.

Although genuinely baffled by the encounter he had seen some weird and wonderful things in his time, from a malevolent demi-god called _Q_ to a Klingon who drunk prune-juice, Miles had seen some pretty strange things in this galaxy, and he chalked this one as another one.

After he'd watched Nolan leave he shook his head, half convincing himself it was either the first stage of some elaborate practical joke, or an aborted smaller one, and turned back to the padd with the article on it he'd set down his desk. He picked it up, tapped a few controls, and made it bring up his lesson plan.

An hour and a half later, Miles had shed the trappings of smartness he'd arrived in that morning. In a style only he could pull off his jacket had been abandoned to adorn the nearest unoccupied chair, two more button at the top of his shirt had been undone, the sleeves on his freshly replicated white shirt had been rolled up, and he had put his glasses on. He'd always had a knack for teaching, Nog, was a testament to that, but lecturing large groups of people had been a fresh skill he'd acquired. With his antique glasses perched at the very tip of his nose, he held the padd at full arms distance, which seemed to be the only place his eyes would allow him to focus on it.

"... and that is quantum physics 101," he said setting the padd down and looking around the room. As he glanced around the room, looking for some sort of sign that what he'd been teaching had been absorbed, he saw what you'd expect to see in an institution of learning, a few students rushed to record down on their padds everything he said word for word, others took brief notes, and others wrote nothing at all. What he didn't see, however, was Nolan, the student whose impromptu visit had certainly made this particular morning very odd.

"Thank you class," he ended with, before remembering to add, "Lieutenant Xon is off today, and so your practical is cancelled this afternoon." He let the information sink in for a moment, "See you all tomorrow."

He turned back, grabbed his jacket, draping it over one arm, before using his free arm to pick up the padd he'd brought with him as well as two others some over eager students had asked him to read.

Without thinking he started making his way the staff room. He had two hours to kill before his next lecture, and he wanted to get these student's mock-ups analyzed and given back to their authors ASAP. Miles stopped mid-stride though, resolving to himself whilst he remembered, to go and call on Nolan Parker, make sure he was ok.

Miles had put the padds and his jacket in his locker in the lecturer staff room before standing before a large screened companel set into the wall. It was a standard LCARS configuration, and by default showed a map of Starfleet Academy's main building, ground floor, which is where he currently was. He tapped a few of the controls on the touch screen to bring up a search menu that could show him Nolan's quarters location. A few punches more and the screen changed through several 3D floor layouts. Normally the screen would zoom out, confirm the request verbally, then zoom back in on the requested destination, showing the quickest route and offering a download to a nav-padd. This time however Miles wasn't given any of this. After the display zoomed out a large error message came across the screen, followed by the message's verbalization; "Unable to comply. Student details do not exist."

It was the same voice that accompanied all LCARS work stations, from the Excelsior class vessels built 50 years ago, right up to _Defiant_. Miles had always thought the voice sounded very similar to Deanna's mother, Lwaxanna Troi's, but when he'd suggested this to the Enterprise's crew it had been dismissed. To this day however, Miles still thought the voice of the Federation standard computer sounded like the Betazoid's.

Puzzled Miles scratched his chin, whilst he ran the search again, wondering if he'd entered a parameter wrong somewhere that was causing the failed return. After double checking the information he was entered he was greeted by the same error message. Frustrated Miles spun around, ready to storm down the next nearest terminal, which he was sure wouldn't be suffering from the same issues this one was encountered. Before he could start walking though, James Redford, was passing on the other side of the hall.

Miles crossed the corridor, his loafers making a solid pounding noise as he moved despite the carpeted floor. In empty corridors, and when he was in enough of a hurry to walk quickly, his footsteps could echo for quite some distance.

"Mr. Redford," he said, having moved quick enough to stand in the student's way. James worn a standard cadet jumpsuit, the emblem of Red Squad on his arm. James was an excellent student, but Miles hadn't realized he'd made the ranks of this elite cadet unit, that become synonymous with excellence during the war.

"You made Red Squad?" Miles commented without thinking, his attention having been drawn to the emblem.

James looked sheepish for a moment, "Oh... yeah, sure."

Miles blinked, "You don't seem too excited?"

"Oh I... am excited Mr. O'Brien. It's just... it was all of a sudden, it hasn't sunken in yet."

"Well, congratulations," Miles offered, wanting to steer the conversation quickly in the direction he needed it to take.

"You're quartered with Nolan Parker right? Have you seen him?"

There was a slight awkward pause, "Err. Mr. O'Brien, I'm quartered with Danny – Cadet Sidwell. I've never heard of a Nolan Parker."

Miles stood gormless for a second; it was such an unexpected thing to say he was dumbfounded. Two semesters long he'd seen James and Nolan sitting together, two semesters long he'd had to split them up to prevent them from sharing notes and quiz answers.

"You're joking right?" That feeling that this was all an elaborate practical joke was returning, in earnest.

"I'm not really sure what you mean sir," James said sincerely and honestly.

"... but I really have to get to class," James smiled and nodded, having made his excuse he made a quit exit.

"But..." Miles said weakly as James walked away, if the boy heard he chose to ignore it and carried on walking.

Just as the urge to fling his arms up in defeat and cry out to whoever was orchestrating this practical joke, who Miles assumed was watching, that they'd won and he didn't want to play anymore, he decided on a more practical course of action.

Returning to the companel he keyed in James Redford's name. This time the display had no trouble giving Miles the information. Armed with a location and a quickly memorized route Miles set off, determined to get the bottom of this.


	2. Chapter 2

Most students chose accommodation away from campus. Sometimes to remain in their family homes, sometimes because of a culture like the emergence of _little Vulcan_, and sometimes just so any un-sanctioned extra-curricular activities went un-noticed by the faculty. Fortunately, with his family being from Berengaria VIII and being of, mostly, human origin, James Redford had elected to stay in one of the shared dormitory rooms located on-campus. Having never re-adorned his jacket O'Brien felt the need to roll the sleeves on his, once, crisp white shirt back down to futilely fight the cold of the 2376 San Francisco autumn which was proving chillier than usually. A slight breeze was blowing in from the bay and having spent so many years inside totally climate controlled environments O'Brien felt the cold. _Thank god I wasn't made ambassador to Breen_, he thought with a chuckled, thinking for a brief moment about the fate of his long-time shipmate; Worf, who despite an aversion to diplomacy had been made ambassador to Qo'noS.

Miles maintained a quick pace from the main Academy block across the luxurious grounds, normally Boothby's neverending handiwork never failed to inspire but today Miles was on a mission. He'd rounded a few corners, traversed a couple hundred metres of gravel and paved walkways and politely said hello, but in that hasty fashion that lets others know you're in a hurry but wish them well, before he was finally stood outside a large quaver shaped building. The main path now far from Boothby's influence had now degraded to standard Federation issue, the same kind you saw everywhere, from Cape Town, to Honolulu, to Cestus III, and there were no flower beds here, just neat well kept grass genetically engineered to never need cutting and use minimal amounts of water. The foot traffic, which had been heavy at first, had petered out by this point, and Miles was almost alone save for the few students who came back and forth.

The building was of a pre-fabricated quality, and whilst not unattractive, the red and grey tones of it sitting nicely amongst the half urban, half green, surroundings, it wasn't exactly inspiring. As Miles approached the front door he had his concerns confirmed. The door was code entry exclusively. Yes Miles' tutor code would grant him access, he'd not wanted his access code being logged somewhere he shouldn't be. This gave him pause for thought, _What am I really doing here? _Miles' internal dialogue asked. "You're ever the concerned one," he said aloud to himself, wanting to reassure himself he was on the right course. _The time _you_ don't follow up on something suspicious is the time you'll have missed your opportunity to save the galaxy_. Miles smiled at this last thought_, Hasn't Starfleet saved the galaxy one too many times already?_

Regardless Miles still didn't want his access code leaving a trail in case it was something more sinister than a practical joke and rather more of a conspiracy to frame him, for god's knows what. Miles was a career military man and therefore didn't stand for any tom-foolery in his classroom, _maybe I've made some enemies?_ He walked as slowly and casually as he could, waiting for a student to either enter or exit the building, hoping to use what speed he had left these days, to dart through the door without the need for an access code.

He didn't have to wait long for his first opportunity, a young, Deltan girl, walked hurriedly up behind him, making a V-shape in her path to overtake O'Brien. She wore standard academy attire, the only personal affect being the family tattoos that adorned the back of her neck, as many not all Deltans wore. She looked up and offered him a quick smile as she passed, assuming he was teacher by the way he was dressed. She marched up to the entrance to the building, juggling the three padds she carried under one arm so she could type her access code into a green panel next to the door. Sensing the moment about to pass Miles quickened his pace, arriving just in time to catch the door from closing with his loafer. There was a terrifying moment when Miles thought the security systems wanting the door shut would override the Health & Safety systems wanting to open the door to save whoever had gotten caught in it. The moment passed and the door swung open enough for Miles to slip inside, the door's making a swoosh and a hiss as they closed and locked. "So far so good," he said under his breath, it only just dawning on him it was going to be much trickier to play the same trick again in order to exit, given the small dimensions of the entry hall he found himself in. His slow walk routine wouldn't work here. Regardless he needed to press on, if he found Nolan Parker, as he expected to do, his concerns would be for nought anyway and Nolan could get him out.

"Fourth floor. Room Beta-Nine." Miles was repeating it almost non-verbally to himself as he entered the turbolift trying to force the memory to stay put. "Deck," he began, the corrected himself, "Floor Four. Beta Section."

The turbolift doors slide shut, encasing Miles in a reassuring and familiar cocoon, and began to move. He only had time to take a couple of breaths before the turbolift stopped again. Miles took a step forward, assuming he'd reached his destination only to halt when the computer announced; "Floor Three. Alpha Section."

The doors slide open and a young man got in, "Going up, sir?" he asked. Miles wasn't sure whether the young man had added the _sir_ because of his perceived rank or his more advanced years. Either way the lad had used a respectful tone and Miles offered him a smile; "Up."

"Likewise," the young man said, spinning on the heels of his Starfleet issue boots. "Floor Four. Beta Section," he announced and the lift started moving again.

The lift stopped again at their conjoint destination and O'Brien thought nothing of sharing the corridor a few paces behind this young man, assuming he'd either carry on far beyond O'Brien's destination or turn of prior to it. But as Miles was making the last few steps before reaching Beta-Nine his lift partner stopped at that very room. O'Brien had two choices, question him, or simply give up. He'd come this far, so Miles chose the former.

"Excuse me Cadet," he said, using that command voice he hadn't used since Deep Space 9. The young man stopped, the hallway was all of a sudden very quiet without the pounding of his boots, or of O'Brien's hard bottomed loafers.

"Yes, sir?" he said, his tone hadn't changed from the respectful one he'd used in the lift, despite the change in situation.

"Are you... do you... are these your quarters?" O'Brien asked, unsure of what question he really wanted to ask and how to ask it.

Looking briefly down at the door handle in his hand, then at the partly opened door, and then up to O'Brien, the young man simply stated what was an obvious fact; "Yes."

"Right," O'Brien agreed, cursing himself for not planning for this contingency. If this was a practical joke he was just adding to the number of witnesses.

"And your roommate is James Redford?"

"Sure is. Red Jimmy we call him now on account of him making Red Squad." The young man turned up, allowing his room door to creak shut and took a few steps towards O'Brien. "My name's Daniel Sidwell. First year cadet, majoring in the sciences."

O'Brien smiled and nodded, in that customary way you did when a student declared his noble intentions. "Have you always been in these quarters?"

On the surface and on a different day, shared between two different people, this may not have been a challenging question. Here and now, and between these two individuals however it totally silenced Sidwell.

"Well?" O'Brien asked. After another momentary pause O'Brien urged, "Well... cadet?"

"No sir. I've only recently been transferred from Gamma-Ten."

"_Been _transferred?" O'Brien saw a hole in the statement and went in for the kill. "I thought all cadets were in-charge of their own housing arrangements? How can you have transferred?"

After another pause Sidwell began talking, more carefully now. "The, errr, landlords said they, errr wanted to convert Gamma wing into a Bolian only wing. You know – drop it a few degrees."

Not convinced, but remembering these facts for later O'Brien pressed on, "Do you know who James' roommate was before you?"

"I was told he lived by himself, that's why it was such an easy move for me. I was about the last Human in Gamma-wing anyways."

Sidwell had taken a couple of steps back now towards his door. "Look, Sir," he said now having worked up the courage to cement his backsteps by turning towards his door. "I have a lot of studying to do and really should be getting on."

Still not happy with the situation but not wanting to press this guy to far, in fear of questions being asked; like why is a teacher avoiding being recorded going into a student building, seemingly following an attractive young Deltan girl? A story, even with unfounded evidence, could ruin his teaching career in one swoop, O'Brien nodded. "Okay. I am sorry to waste your time. I'm looking for a student of mine..." he let his intentions hang in the air for a moment; "A student by the name of Nolan Parker. I could've sworn he'd been bunked with Redford all year."

"Parker... Parker..." Sidwell repeated to himself offering O'Brien the pretence he was trying to place the name. Sidwell had now taken a full step inside his quarters, so O'Brien had closed the gap by a couple of strides just to keep a visual lock.

"No, I'm sorry sir – I don't know the name. As far as I'm aware Jimmy has always been here by himself until I moved in."

The conversation apparently abruptly over Sidwell began to close the door on the outside world, he was obviously in a hurry to escape the constant and seemingly awkward questions being fired at him by a determined O'Brien.

"And when was that exactly? When was it you moved in?" O'Brien wanted, one final answer, and he stepped right into the doorway, stopping short of blocking the door's closure with his foot, to get it.

"A while ago..." Sidwell's voice trailed off now as the door was closed once and for all.

O'Brien made his meandering way back to the turbolift, unsatisfied he was leaving with more questions than answers. That tinge of doubt being to get more and more prominent; _I don't think this is a practical joke_. Scenarios played out in his mind as he rode the turbolift to the ground floor. Was he going mad, and Nolan Parker never existed? Was this an elaborate practical joke that had gone way too far? Or was it something else entirely? As he tried to look busy whilst waiting for another student to enter or exit the building, allowing him to slip out without using his access code, O'Brien inner monologue was in turmoil. _I should just go about my day, forget this whole thing. _But the detective inside him longed to find out the truth, it was the same feeling he'd had when pursuing the Orion syndicate.

When finally a young Beta Trill student entered his head down reading something intently on his padd O'Brien seized his opportunity and immediately set about a mock stride, heading towards the door. The Trill looked up, smiling at O'Brien and holding the door for the instant it took O'Brien to reach it, "Thanks," O'Brien offered as he made a hasty exit. _No need for much security in paradise_ he figured noting the lack of concern over a strange man using their building.

Several hours had passed now and finishing up his last class O'Brien still hadn't managed to put the mystery to rest in his mind. He'd made the decision on the walk back from the dormitory to mull the problem over until the end of his teaching day before deciding on the next course of action; which at this point may well be involving security. Now having slung his jacket over his shoulder and with no padds in tow he exited the lecture room out into the whiteness of the halls. He stood still for a moment in the sea of humans and aliens and drew in a big breath and exhaled just as deeply. Although Miles may still have been undecided over the right course of action, fate was about to make the choice for him. Taking a look out across the sprawl of faces hoping for inspiration his eyes fell upon a young human male that looked quite familiar; _Nolan? _

An flood of different emotions rolled across O'Brien's face. Surprise, relief, anger, all jostled for dominance. Suppressing all these for the time being O'Brien verbalized his thoughts; "Nolan!" he called. Customarily when someone yells your name loudly above the din your surroundings you look up and over in the direction the noise came from, your reaction after that is dependent on your situation; evading arrest, you'd run, at a crowded bar, you'd wave at your friends, but Nolan didn't even get past the first stage. Despite O'Brien loud call he elicited no response from the student he'd spent so much time with, not only this morning, but since coming to the Academy.

O'Brien started focusing his way through the crowd. At first he offered 'excuses mes' and 'pardons' but eventually the immovable mass that was the student body on leisure time became too numerous for such pleasantries and O'Brien reverted to simple, but restrained, shoving. He kept his focus on Nolan as clawed his way towards him. "Nolan!" he cried again.

Partly because there had been no verbal response yet and partly because the distance was shorter now O'Brien did not cry out again. Instead he hastened his pace as the crowds began to thin as the clock wound towards the hour mark that heralded another class for some, or home time for others.

"Nolan?" he finally said, now close enough to put a hand on the lad's arm.

Surprised to have this strange curly haired Irishman attach himself his to left arm the lad O'Brien thought of as Nolan took a step back. O'Brien released his grip and looked at Nolan.

"Nolan? Where have you been? Are you okay?" His concern for the boy's wellbeing had always been at the core of the crazy day at the office O'Brien had had and this was evident now. He was not scolding the boy, he was not threatening him with reprimand, he was asking if he was okay.

"I'm sorry," the student said. "I think you have me confused with somebody else," he looked at the two other people he'd been talking with. It was the first time O'Brien had even paid attention to these two, but he followed Nolan's gaze all the same. Both were human, the first a man in the twilight years of his middle age, a distinguished jaw-line emphasized by the way the man held his head cocked back slightly. He had silver hair, but a thick head of it, slicked back in a wet, but not greasy style. He wore simple civilian clothes. The second, again male, wore a Starfleet jumpsuit, above the black and grey of the uniform's majority was a yellow collar, indicating the man's involvement in either security or engineering, and adorning that collar the three solid gold pips of a Commander. This man was taller than the other three present, by a good 20cms, his broad shoulders not only filled the uniform out nicely but prevented him from looking lanky, which could have happened easily at that height. He was of olive skin, younger than the first man, but older than O'Brien, and had his black hair swept back in the same style. His hair must have been dyed, as his goatee was silver.

"Chief Petty Officer O'Brien?" the Starfleet Commander said, halting whatever O'Brien was to retort to Nolan's claim of misidentity.

O'Brien paused for a moment, turning away from Nolan. "Yes?" O'Brien said in a leading way that implied he wanted the stranger to identify himself. Although there was a pause the stranger did oblige; "I am Commander Felton. This is my associate Mister Black." Felton's hands had at first gestured his himself and then pointed softly to his associate before returning to his sides. O'Brien noted, his eyes following the man's hand movements involuntarily that Commander Felton was armed, a very unusual practice here on Earth.

"Very nice to meet you both," O'Brien said, he had so many things he wanted to say now he was unsure where to begin. Suppressing the urge to stutter slightly, a habit he had, he began at the beginning; "Nolan, what do you mean I'm mistaking? I've taught you for nearly a year. I've been looking for you all day. You were acting strangely in my classroom this morning."

"Sir," Nolan began, "I'm sorry you think these things. I really am. But my name's not Nolan, it's Parker, Parker Curtis." This new person, not Nolan, but Parker Curtis, reached into his pocket and retrieved his Academic ID card.

"Chief O'Brien are you feeling alright?" Commander Felton asked, stepping into the centre of the little semi-circle that had developed between the four men.

"And another thing," O'Brien said, he still had momentum behind his voice and it was like trying to stop a runaway train. "How do you know who I am? I've never met you before in my life."

"We have met before. Briefly. But I do not expect you to remember me, but I actually know who you are from your records here on campus. I am with Starfleet Security and I'm in charge of Security here at the Campus."

"I thought Commodore Martinez was in charge of Academy security?" O'Brien replied, he didn't just think Martinez was in charge, he damn well knew he was. Miles had served with Martinez when he was a mere Security Officer aboard the Enterprise some 10 years ago, and he remembered getting reacquainted when he'd moved back to Earth.

Felton looked at Black, and then back at O'Brien. "Commodore Martinez has been reassigned."

"What? Reassigned where?" Things were going from bad to worse for O'Brien. For a second he wished he'd called in sick today, gone with Keiko to view the biological museum in Adelaide or gone to hear Molly sing at school. Anything apart from coming to work today and dealing with this.

"That," Felton said, putting wait into his words, "is classified." The finality with which Felton declared the information classified seemed to stump O'Brien and the gathering fell silent for a moment. As it having waited for a pause in their conversation the bell rang, it was on the hour and classes were about to start. A panicked Parker glanced at his wrist chronometer and then back up at Commander Felton and Mister Black, "I'm sorry Commander - Mister Black, I am going to be late for class." Felton looked at the young man, this Parker Curtis who O'Brien had mistaken for Nolan Parker, "Go along son." Then Mister Black spoke for the first time, "We have nothing further to discuss with you Parker. Try not to get yourself into any more trouble."

Parker swallowed hard, as if Mister Black's idle scolding held real weight, turned to go. He gave O'Brien one last look. Miles, sensing Parker's attention met his gaze. The two exchanged this silent stare for only the briefest of moments, but in that moment Miles knew; that WAS Nolan Parker. But what Miles was also sure of, was that this Felton and Black were dangerous, and he didn't want to push his luck too far with them.

"My apologies," O'Brien said after Parker had disappeared into the rush of other students making their way to class. "I... I've had a long day." O'Brien turned to go, defeated for now, and still with more questions than answers.

Expecting to be stopped before leaving by Felton, perhaps with more questions, perhaps with some sort of half arsed attempt to convey unnecessary medical advice to cure whatever he would pretend he knew was wrong with him, O'Brien's motions were slow. But none of these things happened, instead Mister Black came out from behind the bulk of Felton and took O'Brien lightly by the shoulder. "I thought a teacher's role was to help his students. Not confuse them," he said matter-of-factly. O'Brien had turned, partly to listen, partly because he had no choice as Mister Black's grip had gotten tighter."Perhaps you shouldn't bother Parker anymore?"

O'Brien didn't respond, but he didn't need to. Mister Black smiled at him before turning in unison with Commander Felton and walking away. O'Brien, having been abandoned by the hordes of students rushing for class and now by these two mysterious men, stood alone, looking lost, and totally terrified, inside a corridor of one of the safest Starfleet installations in the Quadrant.


End file.
